Eye of the Wind Read Online Free PDF

I remember of those times is the jug of lemon barley water beside my bed. Addey will have it ready at any moment. What about food?’
    ‘No meat. Only light and easily digested dishes. But don’t worry if she declines them. She may have no interest in eating until after the fever has broken, which might not be for a day or two.’
    Melissa indicated the drawing room. ‘May I offer you coffee or a glass of Madeira?’
    Dr Wherry shook his head. ‘Most kind of you, my dear, but I have a long list of calls to make. So, much as I’d like to, I cannot stay. Please give your father my regards. I had thought to see him. But it’s of no consequence.’
    ‘I know he’ll be sorry to have missed you. He had urgent business in Truro this morning, and left early.’
    About to speak, the doctor changed his mind, simply nodding and giving her another brief smile as he settled his hat firmly over his eyes. Then, turning to his horse, he fastened his bag to the strap, heaved himself into the saddle, and gathered the reins. With a nod to the stable boy who released the bridle and scurried away, he looked down at Melissa.
    ‘If he finds himself in Truro again tomorrow, ask him if he’ll call and see me. Nothing to worry about,’ he reassured. ‘I’d just like a word.’
    Raising his hat, the doctor turned his horse and trotted off down the drive.
    Watching him for a moment, Melissa wondered what he had been about to say. Then she wondered if she should have mentioned her own concerns about her father’s forgetfulness and preoccupation, the lost weight, and his air of exhaustion. Yet they were not exactly signs of illness, and might easily be attributed to his grief at Adrian’s death: grief he had suppressed in order to support her mother.
    Though lately he had relied on her to do the routine visits to the farms and boatyard, he was not sitting at home idle. Indeed, this past ten days, when he was not closeted in his study, he had ridden several times into Truro, whereas he usually went only once or twice a fortnight.
    The first anniversary of Adrian’s death was bound to be a difficult time. In a week or two all would be easier. Meanwhile, rather than waste precious time and energy on fruitless worry, she would be better employed attending to household matters, looking after her mother, and giving serious thought to the problem of finding a suitable husband.

    Gabriel jerked awake, dry-mouthed, his heart thudding. But this time his disorientation was brief. The angle of the sunlight slanting through the trees told him it was late afternoon. He lay for a moment watching a cloud of midges dart and spiral in the golden shaft. Then he stretched, wincing, hoping his aching muscles would loosen once he got moving.
    Food and rest had restored him, and there was much he must do in the few remaining hours of daylight. His main task was to roof at least one end of the shack before the rain arrived. But in order to do that he first needed to raise and level the two standing walls.
    Ignoring the renewed hunger that urged him to eat again – supper must wait until it was too dark to work – he swallowed a mug of water from the spring, and set to.
    He was careful to take stones from beyond the back wall, or from inside among the nettles, so that disturbance of the undergrowth in front would remain unnoticed should anyone unexpectedly come by on the path.
    After his first effort collapsed he tried a different approach: layering and overlapping large stones with smaller ones, careful to ensure he maintained the slight inward slope of the lower half. Then he filled in the gaps with bits of rubble.
    Heedless of cuts, grazes, and trapped fingers, he worked until the sun was low and all sounds from the yard had stopped. Washing the blood from his hands, he drank more water, sawed off another thick slice of bread, and wrapped it around the last of the cheese.
    Then, chewing as he walked, he set off along the path in the direction of the village.